The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-10-01

The remaining members of our family were my father and a brother older than l, both of whom worked in a factory a mile and half from home. They were gone from lf-past six in the morning until the same hour at night; so there was no one to witness our experiments or comment on our failures.
 The first day we were content to put the house in order and cook only what mother had provided for our six o'clock dinner. No mishap occurred except when I went to "set" the table, l looked around for the plate ofbaked apples, which were part of every meal at this season of the year none were to be found, though felt sure had heard mother tell Stella the last thing before she left to put some in the oven.
 "Wherc are the baked apples, Stellar"
 "In the-Oh, my,"
 She darted across the floor, and opening the oven door, took out q blackened mass which would have re- guired quite stretch of the imagina- tion to believe was ever plate of baked apples. We looked at each other in dismay. Here was fine be- ginning to our long coveted house. keeping.
 "I put them in there at nine o'clock and forgot all about them," Stella said, with such rueful countenance that I could but laugh.
 Well, scrape them in the ashes and we'll see tomorrow if we can SCOUT of the plate. We won't say anything about it." said, magnanimously "That is only mistake number one. It will be my turn next"
 And think it was-most decidedly. The next morning l was all ambition to see what nice housekeeper could be. My first attack was npon the cooking stove; that must be blackcd until it shone as bright as the one in the parlor. had succeeded finely with the "Cinderella Liquid Polish" on that. It had been used when the stove was cold, and it pol ished nicely. But the cook stove was nearly red hot, and no effort of mine would make that backing adhere. only burned my cloths and rubbed off the mixture as fast as l put it on. was not to be conquered in that man. ner. It should stay on in some way but how? That was the question l could not answer. There was no hope from the "Cinderella, that was plainly apparent, so found mothers "Rising Sun" blacking and mixed it with water. But it only missed and bubbled and popped off the stove like parched peas.
 'lt shall stick" I said desperately as heated and exhausted l stopped to take breath. "What do you suppose mother does, Stella?"
 ''i'm sure I don't know That's what she uses, and she makes it stick"
 "She puts something else in besides water, know," responded dolefully, brushing my hair out of my eyes and leaving long black marks across my forehead.
 Now 1 know" Stella exclaimed briskly as new idea struck her. II was in Mrs. Humphreys yesterday and she was backing her cook-stove which was very hot and all burned off on top, and what she put on smelled like turpentine. It made beautiful polish"
 So out went to the back room where father kept his paint materials, and found some turpentine. Mixing a new lot of backing with it. I ap- piled it with fresh cloths, but with no better results so far as polish was concerned. The turpentine ran over the stove and ignited making dense black smoke, which compelled us to open doors and windows.
 "You better give it up," Stella said, coughing and choking with the smoke.
 "Indeed, but won't give it up," l said obstinately. 'Other folks make their stoves shine and I'll make this one if it takes all winter I'll cool the old thing off and then try it."
 So took off covers and middle pieces and put them in the coal-box to cool; then covering the red-hot embers with fresh coal, 1 soon had hearth and frame cool enough 80 that by mixing the backing very thick with but little water l, at last, suc- ceeded in giving them quite fair de- gree of polish.
 But the covers and middle pieces seemed bewitched even when coo they refused all my efforts to mak, the blacking adhere, until I mixed it as thick as paste and spread it or with knife-plastered it on, as { mason would spread mortar with { trowcl-then after fifteen minutes